Friday, 27 November 2015


Dreams of scorpions
As large as inky lobsters
Scuttle through my
Cloud blotted daylight brain.
Murky morning pervades all
As the Sun is tucked up
In bed awaiting solstice
In a new light year's dawning
Winter beckons; It's cold touch
Gutters the candle
Dripping wax
And sounding it's death; The raven croaks
Alongside rumbling engines
Under coal-dust skies

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